


Amrâd'abad

by Gloomier



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, Descent into Madness, Gen, Horror, Non-Graphic Violence, Serious Injuries, Terrifying Tolkien Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-27 05:04:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12574328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gloomier/pseuds/Gloomier
Summary: When the Battle of the Five Armies was won and its victors began laying down the foundation for their hard-won future, many saw it as a turning point, a vision of a long awaited return to a golden age.With the combined work of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and one Hobbit it took five years for the region to regenerate to a point of some sustainability.But in T.A. 2946 Erebor had unknowingly began its slow descent into pandemonium.





	1. Chapter 1

When the Battle of the Five Armies was won and its victors began laying down the foundation for their hard-won future, many saw it as a turning point, a vision of a long awaited return to a golden age.

With the combined work of Men, Elves, Dwarves, and one Hobbit it took five years for the region to regenerate to a point of some sustainability. The animosity these races shared with each other was bridged by the cunning and genius of one Hobbit Burglar, despite his own personal struggles with the The King Under the Mountain. With evil vanquished, everyone could finally breath that sigh of relief. 

But in T.A. 2946 Erebor had unknowingly began its slow descent into pandemonium.

 

*

 

Bilbo’s day began like any other: with a lie in, a hearty breakfast, a pile of unread reports and documents requiring his signature, then second breakfast. 

His decision to remain in Erebor had not been an easy choice, with all that had happened, but he still felt as though it was the best choice he had ever made. Now, he stood at Thorin’s side as one of his royal advisor. Their own healing—repairing the damage done by poor decisions made on both their parts—was a road that they were still traveling, but it had smoothed out considerably in recent years. Bilbo’s job was not easily done and often left him exhausted, but it’s a job he’s come to enjoy; seeing the culmination of one’s hard work and good will is worth more than a dragon’s hoard.

After tending to his morning routine, Bilbo attended this month’s meetings with delegates hailing from Dale and Esgaroth. Dale still required shipments of stone cut from Erebor’s quarries for their repairs, which would finally be completed by the end of the year, according to the master architect. Esgaroth on the other hand was having problems with smugglers, and they requested Dwarvish patrols on the Northern and Eastern banks of the long lake; the Elven King was seeing to the Western and Southern edges. Bilbo handed both requests off to Balin and Dwalin. Balin will make sure Dale got their supply of stone, and Dwalin will set up the requested patrols for Esgaroth.  

He took elevensies with Fíli and Kíli, who were still beyond thrilled to partake in Hobbit eating habits, and then he sat for his final meeting with an Elvish delegate who update Erebor on the orc band that had recently taken refuge in the previously cleansed ruins of Dol Guldur. They were proving to be a clever nuisance, slipping by Elven sentinels; several Ereborian caravans had been attacked so far, among others. Thorin would be displeased by the report no doubt.

Bilbo shared lunch with Thorin, making sure to set out the King’s favorite baked treats, and they went over Bilbo’s morning meetings. As Bilbo predicted, the King was less than appreciative of the effort being made to root out orc filth in the recuperating Greenwood—further annoyed by the smuggling ring hiding out in Laketown—but fresh treats and the excellent progress reports coming from Dale went a long way to help alleviate the onset of Thorin’s dark mood. 

Then came the worst part of the day.

Once a week Thorin and his advisors (Balin, Dís, and Bilbo), the Lords and Ladies of the city, high ranking guardsmen, and the civilian councilors got together. This was a check Thorin had put in place shortly after his coronation, a way of keeping the throne balanced. It allowed Thorin to delegate power evenly throughout the kingdom, which went a long way to lessen his own work load. Everyone with power was on equal footing during these meetings, but it also meant plenty of yelling from time to time. Bilbo disliked them because it meant he couldn’t take tea on those days.

Today was one of the calm days, thankfully, and Bilbo was ready to move on.

“Are there any more standing issues that need to be brought before this court?” Balin asked, his eyes sweeping over the four tables.

Or so Bilbo thought. He watched Dwalin, who sat at the table with the other guardsmen, lean over and mumble to the guard sitting to his right.

Absolutely  _ perfect. _

“Yes,” the guardsmen spoke up as she pushed her chair out to stand. All eyes in the room followed her as she walked a path around the table and stood before the table Bilbo sat at with Thorin and the rest of the King’s advisors.

“The floor is yours,” Balin said with a curt nod and retook his seat.

“Captain Tova, third level Commons District,” she stated, bowing deeply.

“Please share with us what you have to say, Captain,” Thorin said.

“Two nights ago, one of my patrols came upon a gruesome scene, Majesty. A Dwarf was killed in a side-street. The murderer was still present at the scene.”

Thorin frowned deeply. 

There hadn’t been serious crime since people began to repopulate the mountain. Bilbo’s own stomach flopped, he wasn’t used to such violence despite the fact that he had been in a few battles himself and seen what war brings. 

“You apprehended them, I hope?” Thorin asked sternly, making the Guard Captain shuffle uncomfortably. It was a demand, not a question. 

“We tried, Your Majesty,” Tova explained weakly. 

Thorin’s expression hardened, Bilbo saw the King’s hands whiten as he gripped the arms of his chair tightly.

“But?” 

“When we tried to pull the Dwarf off the body they lashed out. Broke the neck of one of my men and nearly killed a second. There was madness in their eyes, Your Majesty. It took five of us just to restrain them, but that’s not all.”

“Tell me,” Thorin demanded then, his voice crisp with cold fury.

“The victim wasn’t just murdered, they had been ripped apart. _ Gnawed on. _ The crazed one was covered in the victim’s blood. We think they’d been eating the body, or at least it looked like it.” 

The room broke out into murmurs of worry and disbelief and Bilbo was in agreement with the lot of them, such a thing was unheard of. Surely the guards had interpreted the situation wrong. Thorin remained silent as he processed that information and Bilbo took the opportunity to speak up as one of Thorin’s advisors.

“What happened after you subdued the Dwarf?” Bilbo questioned. Nervousness had begun to well up within him. How do you even handle a situation like this? How do you inform the people of such a horrific crime? This was not what Bilbo had imagined dealing with when he had accepted his duties.

“We put them in irons and took them to the prison district, My Lord. We had to gag them too, the bastard was trying to bite the rest of us. We ha—”

“Did you just say they were trying to bite you?” Dís interrupted Tova in disbelief. 

_ Who in the world actively tries to bite their captors? _ Bilbo wondered. 

“I did, Lady Dís,” Tova confirmed. “We gave them a secluded cell with continuous supervision, and the prison guard have explicit orders not to interact in any way with the prisoner.”

“Óin will do a full examination of the corpse, as well as the prisoner, for the time being,” Thorin said. “Until we know more, the details of this atrocity do not leave this room. The reclamation of Erebor is still fresh on the people’s minds and it would not do well to alarm them unnecessarily.”

 

*

 

The meeting still weighed heavily on Bilbo’s mind.

As per Thorin’s decree, the incident was fed to the people as an accident—a fight that taken a violent turn leading to the accidental death of the victim. Three days of going through the dead Dwarf’s remains concluded that the murderer had in fact been eating their victim. That knowledge was pure nightmare fuel for Bilbo. 

The murderer had been identified as Master Craftsman Vorn, who had been given the honor of creating a memorial dedicated to the souls lost during Erebor’s sacking. An eyewitness account given by one of Vorn’s assistants revealed that the craftsman had been working late the night of the murder. Vorn had been putting the finishing touches on the massive stone obelisk set to be revealed on the anniversary of the sacking. On the stone itself was a detailed depiction of the event, and at the very top the Arkenstone was set in place of the point. In the planning stages of the memorial it was decided that the obelisk should be placed where all could see it, the Arkenstone acting as a reminder of how the calamity fell upon them; the memorial was erected near the market district, the area which had been cordoned off during its construction.

Following the examination of the victim’s body, Óin had attempted to give Vorn an examination. 

The guards in charge of overseeing Vorn had reported that the Dwarf in question refused to eat and drink. The craftsman’s lips had begun to crack due to dehydration, but there were no other physical signs that Vorn was suffering from starvation or dehydration despite his lack of interest in eating or drinking. The debacle had Óin stumped; no one just shrugged off starvation or dehydration, especially not both at the same time. 

The oddities continued to pile up.

The craftsman did not speak a word, Khuzdul or otherwise, to anyone. His screams and howls resembled those of a rabid animal. Vorn remained violent, showing increased hostility toward all who approached the cell to bring him food and water, and then Óin when he had tried to do the examination. During night two in the cell, Vorn had rubbed his wrists raw to the point where they were bloody. In addition to his bloodied wrists, he had also dislocated his left shoulder in his struggle to escape his bonds. None of the guards felt safe attempting to release Vorn after he had killed a guard—and attempted to kill others—during his incarceration, so the manacles had remained. For all intents and purposes, Vorn’s injuries should have been debilitating for him but the Dwarf didn’t seem to acknowledge them in the least.

Óin couldn’t make heads or tails of it. His recommendation to euthanize Vorn did not come lightly, but he couldn’t be certain that it wasn’t a contagious illness; his symptoms alone were dangerous, dangerous enough that Thorin agreed with Óin’s suggestion. 

The fourth night, after the deed had been done Thorin had gone to Bilbo’s quarters. Bilbo had offered the King a glass of his best wine, purchased from Thranduil’s best wine distributor. Thorin had drained the glass, the rest of the bottle and a whole second bottle before he finally opened up to Bilbo. 

Something had gone wrong that night. 

Thorin had taken responsibility for dealing the blow that would end Vorn’s life, it was only right after all. Only, when he had gone to land the blow Vorn managed to get loose. The craftsman had gone after Thorin in a frenzied rage, attempting to rip the King’s throat out with his teeth, but ended up impaling himself on Orcrist instead when the King had raised his blade to defend himself. It was a blow that should have been fatal, but it had not stopped Vorn from inching his way down the blade, pushing himself to the blade’s hilt in an attempt to reach Thorin. The weight of the crazed Dwarf had forced Thorin to trip backwards and and land prone, bringing the craftsman—Orcrist still embedded in his chest—down on top of him.

One of the guards had lopped off the craftsman’s head in the end to save Thorin’s life.

It explained why Thorin had looked so disheveled, and why his clothes were bloody; Bilbo could see dried blood flake away around Thorin’s face.

Thorin was completely shaken, all the way down to his foundation. The same Dwarf who had faced down Azog and Smaug—even survived wounds that should have killed him—now sat on Bilbo’s sofa a broken Dwarf. Thorin had always held himself as an unshakable pillar, a mountain that would bend to no one. 

Thorin’s haunted expression left Bilbo hollow and terrified.

The morning after the botched execution Thorin sent ravens in all directions carrying an urgent message for Gandalf.

Thorin, along with all his royal advisors and Dwalin, worked to put together a public statement outlining the investigation’s findings for the recent murder, withholding key points such as the odd symptoms and the execution. At this point, with all the findings that had been gathered, Bilbo did not agree with hiding the truth from the citizens of Erebor. Something ghastly and unimaginable had taken place and they were all trying to cover it up. 

Thorin wanted to wait until after the memorial reveal—and for Gandalf to arrive—before he explained the full extent of the incident. Bilbo would hold his tongue a while longer on the subject.

In the days leading up to the anniversary of the sacking of Erebor, more cases of similar violence cropped up. All were exactly like the first occurrence; the same strange, violent symptoms—and seven more deaths. Among the new victims four guards had been killed in the apprehension of the sick Dwarves, two of which had attempted to take down one of them without backup. Twenty people in total had come down with the mysterious plague. The new cases were quickly examined—at a safe distance—and were put in the prison cells of the cordoned off prison wing. 

Thorin had called an emergency meeting of the council to discuss quarantine procedures for the city, and already he was considering eliminating the threat, an option some of the other kingdom officials were pushing for.    

Bilbo wouldn’t keep quiet any longer. All that Thorin had told him about these infected scared the stuffing out of him, and Bilbo would be damned if he let killing continue.

“We can’t just keep killing them! I don’t think I have to tell you how horrible we are for trying to cover this up, let alone killing all those coming down with this unexplainable illness” Bilbo shouted, giving Thorin and everyone else in the room a pointed look. 

“I know,” Thorin sighed tiredly, meeting Bilbo’s irate gaze. He hadn’t been sleeping much, if at all, the past three weeks and Bilbo would know since Thorin had been camping out on his furniture most nights, when he wasn’t doing the same on Dís’ furniture. “I don’t know what else we can do. If this is an epidemic, then we can’t just keep shoving the afflicted into the prison, we will run out of room. Has there been any word from the Wizard? Have any kingdoms made contact?”

“None, so far. No one has seen Gandalf,” Dís answered. She had been tirelessly sending out letters for days. The Ravens were becoming more grumpy with each new letter to be sent out.

“Putting them in the prison is the best solution we have right now to quarantine the sick. We can’t risk anymore exposure, there were two new cases this morning,” Dwalin spoke up. He had been in agreement with Bilbo about the no-kill option; there had been enough death in Erebor’s history.

“We are reaching a point where we won’t be able to keep a lid on this, folks are already asking about the curfew,” one of the civilian counselors spoke up. “What do you think is going to happen when we tell them no one can enter or leave the mountain, and we seal the gates?”

There would be panic, riots, complete chaos. Bilbo could already see it in the eyes of Erebor’s people when he walked through the city. They all knew something was going on, but they had no idea what. Reports were already coming in. Many people had begun hoarding supplies, merchants were starting to increase the price of their goods in the wake of the shift in supply and demand.

“All inmates who have committed petty crimes will be pardoned to make room in the prison. Have any of the afflicted shown hostility toward each other, Óin?” Thorin asked.

“So far? No. We have them all in separate cells, but last week’s incident with three sick Dwarves shows that they may not care to attack each other,” Óin explained.

Thorin nodded. 

“Here’s what we will do,” Thorin said, taking a calming breath. “The gates and any other entrances will be sealed henceforth, until whatever this sickness is runs its course. Inform Dale, Esgaroth, and the Woodland Realm of the quarantine. Gather and secure all available provisions, they will have to be carefully rationed. Stealing, fighting, and any attempts to escape while the quarantine is in effect will be met with severe punishment.”

“And what about the sick?” Dwalin asked.

“Put as many of them in each cell as you can safely fit, chain them to the walls if you have to. Only dispatch them as a last resort.”

“You will tell them,” Bilbo declared. Bilbo accepted his position to help Thorin, and right now he needed help in the form of good sense. They needed to try and help these sick people; they were sick, not criminals.

“I will tell them, at the unveiling. After the speech,” Thorin promised and looked Bilbo right in the eye as he said it. Thorin had been steadfast in keeping his every word since five years ago, and Bilbo knew he could count on the King to keep this promise too.

It was a good a time as any, and if Thorin played it right—beseech his people to stand their ground in the face of a danger that could be as devastating as Smaug—then there would be a lesser chance of chaos engulfing the population. 

In theory.

 

*

 

The nervous energy brimming in Erebor was fit to burst. 

The day of the unveiling everyone, Bilbo included, seemed to be at the precipice of their wit’s end. The implementation of Thorin’s orders left the populace dazed, confused, and angry. Thankfully there had been no violence yet.

A high platform was erected near the cloth-covered monument. The guardsmen watched Erebor’s populace calmly file into the courtyard while Thorin, Bilbo and the rest of the royal advisors waited for the ceremony to commence. 

Bilbo’s hands were clammy, the nervousness of the atmosphere only served to feed his own, making him fidget in place. Thorin was pacing, Bilbo couldn’t blame him; in the three days since the emergency meeting thirteen new cases popped up. Thorin’s exhaustion induced anger had caused him to start an argument with Dís, their biggest to date, and Bilbo was forced to intervene on Dís’ behalf—something Bilbo never wanted to do ever again, thank you very much—it wasn’t her fault that Gandalf was nowhere to be found.

When the courtyard was finally filled they climbed up onto the stage and Thorin addressed his people.

It really was a good speech, Bilbo thought, talking about how far they’ve come in avenging and reclaiming the lives lost in Erebor, and how with everyone’s help the kingdom would have a golden future. Thorin, with Balin’s help, spent a great deal of time penning it. Remembering the lost was a great deal of importance to the King, as well as to the people. 

The issues suffered the past month seemed to dissipate when the cloth was pulled away from the obelisk, revealing its beautiful, ornate carvings and the Arkenstone that glowed at the pinnacle of the monument; Vorn’s work was truly magnificent. The heartfelt cheers made Bilbo’s body tingle with pride and his eyes burn with tears; by the looks of it, the feeling was very mutual. 

Thorin held a quelling hand up, and when the noise quieted he continued into his second prepared speech. He asked his people for their continue support in the face of a new enemy, one that took the form of pestilence. Bilbo could feel the air shift, the momentary positive energy was sucked away leaving only heavy restlessness. As Thorin explained everything the noise level in the courtyard increased, people talking to each other and some shouting questions up at their King, who answered as many and as truthfully as he could.

And then there was screaming.

The noises emanated from somewhere in the back, guards were already wading through the sea of panicking citizens. Guards waiting on either side of the stage hopped up onto it, drawing their swords. Bilbo stepped away from the edge and closer to Thorin who had drawn Orcrist. 

There were more shouts and screams now as people tried to push their way out of the courtyard, Bilbo watched several dwarves fall to the ground in the frenzy to escape. Everyone on the stage had a clear view now that the middle of the courtyard was cleared. 

They all saw for themselves the undeniable truth of the horror Erebor was facing.

 

*

 

It took hours for Bilbo to fall asleep afterward. The unexpected attack had caused what they all had been fearing. 

Every time he closed his eyes the images of a Dwarf getting ripped apart played behind his eyelids. His mind substituted himself for the unfortunate Dwarf; sometimes it was someone else.

Bilbo didn’t know what time it was when he finally stirred, or what had woken him up. He took a deep breath and wiggled beneath the warmth of his blankets and furs, hoping to fall asleep again. 

Several muffled thumps against wood broke the silence in his quarters then, and it felt like his heart had jumped up into his throat. The pounding came again, but this time Bilbo calmed himself and kicked away his bedding. He swung his feet over the edge of the bed and slipped off it, grabbed his patched robe lying on the trunk at the end of his bed and put it on. The thumping was incessant now, becoming louder when Bilbo yanked his bedroom door open.

“Bilbo, open the door,” someone shouted from the other side. It sounded like Dwalin.

What could possibly be so urgent that Dwalin needed to beat down his door in the middle of the night, Bilbo wondered as he walked over to the door. He unbolted the door and pulled it open. 

Dwalin didn’t wait for Bilbo to greet him before he barged right in.

“Watch the door,” he grunted to the four guards that stood in the hall behind him. 

“What is going on, Dwalin?” Bilbo protested as he was pushed back into his chambers by Dwalin. The guards took up their posts as the door closed behind Dwalin. 

“Get dressed, Bilbo. We’re leaving,” Dwalin said as he stomped his way towards Bilbo’s room.

“What do you mean _ we’re leaving?” _ Bilbo balked, chasing after the Guard Captain. He couldn’t possibly mean—

“We’re leaving Erebor, through the hidden passage,” Dwalin explained vaguely. He threw Bilbo’s wardrobe open and began pulling clothes out from it—Bilbo’s sturdier Dwarven-made clothes that he only wore when he had to travel—throwing them on the bed. 

“Did something happen? Bilbo questioned. Now seemed like a bad time to fuss about propriety, Dwalin seemed to be in a no-nonsense mood. Bilbo shucked his robe, pulled his night shirt over his head, and began putting on the outfit Dwalin had pilfered from the wardrobe.

“The whole city’s gone mad, not safe anymore,” the Dwarf elaborated as he moved to the trunk sitting at the end of Bilbo’s bed. He opened it and pulled out Bilbo’s mithril shirt and Sting, throwing them onto the bed as well. “More people got sick, and now there’s too many of ‘em to handle. We’re getting out out before it’s too late.”

Dwalin moved to the wardrobe again. This time he pulled two things from within and handed them over to Bilbo. A pair of socks and boots. Oh how he  _ hated _ those things, they made his feet feel constricted. He was about the complain but one look from Dwalin quelled his irritation. He huffed and quickly put them on.

“Are you satisfied now, you brute?” Bilbo asked, splaying his arms wide while frowning at Dwalin. 

“Good enough, now let’s go. Thorin and the rest are probably waiting for us, and we’ve wasted enough time,” Dwalin groused and marched out of the room.

Before Bilbo forgot, he reached beneath his pillow to retrieve his magic ring. He gave it a quick look before shoving it safely into the inner pocket of his Dwarf coat and ran out of the room to catch up to Dwalin. 

The hall was eerily quiet as Bilbo stepped out into the hall with Dwalin and his guards. 

“Let’s go,” Dwalin commanded, leading the way. Bilbo scurried after Dwalin and the four guards closed ranks around him as they made their way down the corridor. 

Eventually their group made it to a crossway where Thorin, Dís, Fíli, Kíli, Balin, and more guards were indeed waiting for them. A knot that had settled in Bilbo’s gut had untangle some upon seeing that they were all okay, but he was worried for the rest of the company, his friends, wherever they were; he hoped they’d all meet up. Thorin and his nephews seemed to visibly relax upon seeing Bilbo, clearly they had been thinking something similar. 

And then they were all moving again.

They exited the palace by way of a secret tunnel, built as an escape route for the royal family, and it wasn’t until they exited the tunnel that Bilbo really knew what was going on. The area where they exited from wasn’t clear, there were Dwarves—not yet sick—running away from the crazed ones; some Dwarves had not managed to get away at al. Those sick Dwarves who had noticed their group were swiftly and mercilessly cut down by the guards as they rushed down the street. There were countless more afflicted, even as they attempted to avoid going deeper in the city. They couldn't risk taking a direct route to the old treasury, that would lead them through the heart of the city and likely thousands more afflicted, so they were stuck taking the long way around.

The street they traveled opened up into a larger courtyard where a throng of sick Dwarves had gathered. Before their own large group could back away safely, they were spotted. When a few of them moved, growling and snarling at them, the rest of them began to notice as well.

There were many loud curses and then they were all running, back tracking to another street with the mob of afflicted trailing them. They hit another crossroad. Another small group of rabid Dwarves meandered their way down one of the intersecting streets, reacting as soon as their new prey came into sight. 

A few of the guards stood their ground, weapons drawn ready to face their foes, acting as bait to give the others time to run. The group took the path ahead of them, the remaining guards and Dwalin handling the few afflicted that were prowling it. In a panic Bilbo broke off from the group, running down the second of the two clear streets, adjacent to the one the group had taken. 

“Bilbo!” Thorin shouted, turning just in time to see Bilbo break off from the group. 

That was how he and Thorin had ended up by themselves.

They had run for what felt like hours hiding behind obstacles where they could, and avoiding all Dwarves, sick or not. For the moment they had lost their pursuers. 

All the running had set Bilbo’s lungs on fire and turned his legs to jelly, and were it not for Thorin dragging him along by the hand, Bilbo likely would have collapsed already. He hoped that the others were all okay. 

They ducked behind a building and Bilbo caught his breath while Thorin peeked around the corner, making sure that nothing would sneak up on them.

“The gates will hold, won’t they?” Bilbo panted quietly, propping himself up against the wall while he sucked in lungfuls of air.

“They’ll hold,” Thorin answered confidently. “When I ordered the quarantine I asked a few of the company to sabotage the gate. Only they know how to fix it, and none of them will open it.”

That was a relief to hear, but Bilbo didn’t feel much relieved. Who knew how many people they were leaving for dead by escaping using the secret door. 

“Bilbo,” Thorin murmured, clamping one of his hands over Bilbo’s shoulder. Apparently his concern had been written all over his face. “I would save everyone if I could. With those  _ things _ out there, it would be an impossible task. I would not set them loose on the world waiting outside Erebor.”

Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut against the sting of tears and nodded. “There is still hope for them, if we can get a hold of Gandalf,” he said hoarsely. 

“We must go,” Thorin said instead and let go of Bilbo’s shoulder. Thorin didn’t seem so optimistic about it, and perhaps the King had the right idea. If they managed to get out of here and find Gandalf, there were no assurances that the Wizard would be able to help. 

Bilbo took deep breath and shakily exhaled it. 

Thorin peeked around the corner of their hiding place one last time making sure it was safe before moving on. 

This part of the kingdom, so close to where the old treasury used to be, was eerily quiet. Cutting their way through big groups of ravenous Dwarves had been an experience, there had been so many in the upper sections of the city, and to travel through an empty section was unsettling when you knew what was roaming the rest of the city. They took their time, as much as they could spare, moving through this empty section—any sort of commotion would likely give them away.

Bilbo held up hope that the rest of their party had made it to the door.

When Bilbo and Thorin made it to one of several entrances to the old treasury, they had their first run in with the afflicted in this section of the city—a few of the crazed Dwarves chased their prey down the street. He and Thorin had bolted through the door and flattened themselves against the wall. Bilbo held his breath until the shouting and snarling faded away.

In truth, Bilbo hadn’t been down here in years, even when the gold was being sorted and moved. There were still large mountains of gold left to move of course, even after all these years. Running through the room, moving around the hills of gold drudged up the memories of being chased through the treasury by Smaug. It was a big dose of  déjà vu, only they weren’t being pursued by a dragon this time. Bilbo was glad that neither of them were talking, as dangerous as it was to make noise in the first place, he didn’t think he could suffer much conversation—between the memories and the terror happening in real time.

They climbed the stairs leading up to the passage to the secret door. They hadn’t been there for very long before more shouts and the pounding of feet echoed through the cavernous room. Thorin perked up immediately, he descended the stairs hurriedly to the next landing in an attempt to spot whomever they were. He didn’t have to wait long, a group of five Dwarves—Fíli, Kíli, Dís, Dwalin, and another guard it looked like—careened around a hill of gold running for the stairway, trailed by many of the afflicted who were gaining on them. 

As they got nearer, Fíli pointed in Thorin’s direction and for a moment there were relieved shouts until Dís tripped, landing hard on the floor. 

“Dís!” Thorin roared in anguish, descending the rest of the stairs with haste.

“Thorin, no!” Bilbo cried, dashing to catch up to Thorin. At the very last moment he managed to grab a handful of Thorin’s sleeve. “Don’t go down there!”

“Bilbo let me go, please,” Thorin pleaded, his eyes were wild with fear.

Bilbo could just barely see the their Dwarves over the landing; Dwalin was helping Dís up off the ground while the second guard drew their weapon, walking toward the group of crazed Dwarves, clearly intending to serve as a distraction to give the others time to get away. 

“Look they’re okay,” Bilbo said tugging on Thorin’s sleeve and took a step up. Thorin followed slowly, watching the renewed progression of his family, slower now—it looked like Dís may have tweaked her ankle in the fall. Thorin looked like he still wished to go, but he waited on the landing with Bilbo, watching the guard fight off the afflicted. Bilbo had to look away when the poor Dwarf had gotten overwhelmed, but nothing could block out their screaming. 

“Hurry up!” Thorin shouted, and this time Bilbo wasn’t able to catch Thorin’s sleeve as the King raced down the stairs. “There are more coming!” 

Thorin met them at the bottom, he threw Dís’ arm around his shoulders to help Dwalin carry her up the stairs. Fíli and Kíli followed shortly behind, dispatching a rabid Dwarf that had caught up to them. Bilbo climbed the next flight of stairs, spotting three more Dwarves running for them.

“Kíli! Come help Dís,” Dwalin shouted, easing Dís carefully off his shoulder. 

“Dwalin, don’t you do what I think you’re going to do,” Dís cried and attempted to grab Dwalin’s arm. Dwalin shrugged her off and headed back down the stairs to meet their foes. 

“I got you, mum,” Kíli panted, taking Dwalin’s place. 

Dwalin swung his axe, embedding the blade into the chest of one Dwarf. Using the height difference provided by the stairs, Dwalin braced his booted-foot against their shoulder, using them as leverage to pull his axe free, the force of it sent the afflicted tumbling back down the stairs into a second pursuer. Fíli, with Dwalin’s help, dispatched the third. 

They continued the rest of the way up to the hall, another few flights of stairs, with Bilbo leading the way. Fíli and Dwalin slowly caught up with them as they cut down their followers.

They raced up the narrow passage and the urgency of their predicament increased ten fold. The passage was too small for them to remain any longer than need be, they couldn’t fight in such an enclosed space. Already the trickle of enemies was beginning to thicken, more than they could handle. Ultimately they would end up trapped. 

“Thorin, they’re coming. We cannot hold them for long!” Dwalin bellowed, bringing his axe down onto a Dwarf’s skull.

“Bilbo, take my place,” Thorin chuffed frantically. Bilbo scrambled over and Thorin heaved Dís’ arm over his shoulders.

Thorin clambered to the hidden door, hands scrabbling across smooth stone looking for the latch that would release the lock on the door; why they didn’t just have a keyhole on this side as well was a mystery to Bilbo. Thorin was starting to panic, the angry snarls and labored cries from Fíli and Dwalin were fueling it.

“Uncle, hurry!” Fíli yelled.

Bilbo twisted his head to see behind them, and he immediately regretted it. Fíli had been tackled by one of them, Dwalin was busy fighting another one of them, unable to assist the other.

“Thorin!” Bilbo yelled, watching Fíli ineffectively kick at the Dwarf atop of him. The lad was looking tired, too tired to keep fighting. They were all exhausted.

“I know!” Thorin snarled, slamming his fists against the hard stone. “Come on! Mahal-cursed contraption—” Thorin cried just as the portion of the wall he had been pounding at sunk into itself. Air rushed into the passage with a quiet whoosh.

“Thank Mahal,” Dís said with a choked sob.

Dwalin grabbed the Dwarf on top Fíli by their hair and hauled them off the lad, following the grapple with a swing of his axe, and then another to behead them. Four more afflicted raced up the tunnel toward them.

Thorin struggled to pry the heavy door open enough for Bilbo, Dís, and Kíli to squeeze out of the mountain and into the cool summer morning. 

“Dwalin! Fíli! Let’s go!” Thorin roared down the passage.

Bilbo and Kíli set Dís down at the edge of the cliff. Kíli kneeled protectively at her side, hand on the hilt of his blade. Bilbo rejoined Thorin at the slight opening of the tunnel, standing just outside it. He immediately noticed a rather large hole in their escape plan, even as Dwalin and Fíli booked it up the passage toward them, many of the afflicted hot on their heels.

“Go! Go!” Dwalin bellowed, waving Thorin out of the tunnel . 

Thorin stepped away, Bilbo mechanically followed suit and his stomach sank. Dwalin collided with the door, already having come up with a solution to fix the problem of making sure the hidden door shut behind them. It could only be closed from the inside. 

“Dwalin, what are you doing?!” Thorin shouted at Dwalin who was straining to budge the stone.

“What does it look like I’m doing, you royal idiot!” Dwalin growled. “Fíli, get your arse moving!”

Fíli slammed into the door then, adding his strength to Dwalin’s. “No! We need to get the door shut!” 

“No. No you’re not staying, Fíli!” Dís cried hysterically as she attempted to stand. Her injury and Kíli both prevented her from doing so. 

Bilbo moved to stand next to Kíli and Dís, eyes welling with tears. This was not suppose to happen to Erebor, to Thorin’s people, his family. They had just reclaimed the mountain from one evil only to lose it to another. Bilbo couldn’t see Fíli, hidden from sight as he was behind the door, but Dwalin was looking bloodied now even as a Dwarf tore into the one arm of Dwalin’s visible to Bilbo.

“Get out,  _ now!” _ Thorin bellowed, his voice cracking with hysteria as the door began to shut. “I’ll take your place!”

Dwalin was trying his best to stay on the door, shaking the afflicted off him as they tried to pull him to the ground.

“This is the way it has to be, Uncle. If we don’t get this closed then we’re letting these things out, we’ll all die!” Fíli snarled over Dwalin’s labored groans and those of the rabid Dwarves now grabbing, clawing, and biting at him. 

Dwalin roared and heaved against the door with all his might. 

“Amad, Uncle, Kíli. I love—” were Fíli’s last words, cut off by the door sealing shut.

Dís wailed, pulling Kíli into her as she wailed. 

Thorin screamed at the now hidden stone door, incessantly hacking at the wall with Orcrist until he collapsed against it, continuing to beat at the stone with his fists. 

Bilbo covered his mouth with his hands and sunk to ground, shoulders shaking with muffled sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "There can be no happiest endings. There can be bad endings, good endings, even happy endings, but never a happiest ending. That's not a story; it's a fairy tale."
> 
> I had much worse planned, so this is the "happy ending" (still lots of PTSD and survivor's guilt to go around). Second chapter is an epilogue of sorts (and a mini au). Tried to give this fic a 28 Days later feel and those Dwarves weren't real zombies (slow undead are boring, strength and speed are scary as hell).
> 
> Big thank you to [Paranoidfridge](http://paranoidfridge.tumblr.com/) for their help with this.
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://tea-blitz.tumblr.com/)


	2. Chapter 2

**Item #:** SCP-2946   
  
**Object Class:** Keter   
  
**Special Containment Procedures:** Until such a time as SCP-2946 is found to be without any mind-affecting properties it is to remain in its original location at the former site of █████ , ███████. The mountain’s entrance is to be sealed and blocked off by an electric fence 4 meters high. Facilities for armed guards are to be 2 km from its location. No contact with SCP-2946 is permitted. Trespassers are to be treated with Class-A amnestic and returned to the nearest town of [DATA EXPUNGED] or terminated at the discretion of on-site security. In the event of SCP-2946 being approached or seized by a hostile armed force then contingency 0922-X is to be executed.   
  
**Description:** SCP-2946 is a 12 x 6 cm oval-shaped gem approximately .5 kg with a hardness of 10 on the Mohs scale. It appears opalescent in color with inexplicable luminescence. SCP-2946 was rediscovered during an archaeological excavation in ██/██/3██ █ by the Dwarrow group _Seven Kingdoms Reclamation Foundation._ According to Dwarvish historical documentation, the object was originally excavated from the rock within the mountain in ██████ by the region’s indigenous people who had mysteriously died out 800 years prior to the rediscovery (see attached document 2946-B). Upon being exposed to SCP-2946 the excavation team experienced varying states of psychosis, the effects of which becoming more violent as exposure persisted. At the time the Foundation arrived on site, field agents reported survivors of the excavation team were consuming the tissue of the deceased.

If not for the fact that the mountain currently contains it, SCP-2946 is believed to have the potential to affect a broad area as far as 150 km away; the exact distance is unknown. Exposure victims under the influence of SCP-2946 for more than a 24 hour period begin to suffer permanent brain trauma. Persons who escape the exposure area experience severe depression and agitated emotional states but can return to full health with proper care.

**Addendum 2946-01:**  Audio excerpt from the SCP-2946 Recovery Log (██/██/3███)

 

> **[17:21] T2Lead:** Command, Two Lead. We’ve found the camp, it’s deserted. Heading to sector-09.
> 
> **[17:22] Command:** Copy, Team Two. Proceed.
> 
> **[17:25] Command:** Team One, Command. What is your status?
> 
> **[17:25] T1Lead:** All quiet Command. Still no sign of the civilian dig team.
> 
> **[17:26] T1Lead:** Wait…[pause]...it looks like we found a body. Stand by.
> 
> **[17:27] -** _Sounds of weapons being readied, followed by unintelligible snarling._
> 
> **[17:27] T1Lead:** Oh shit! We’ve got contact!
> 
> **[17:28] -** _Sounds of shouting and gunfire._
> 
> **[17:28] Command:** Team one, do you copy?
> 
> **[17:29] T1Lead:** Command, there are six hostiles. I repeat, six hostiles. Three of my men have gone down, requesting immediate evac. We’re bugg—
> 
> **[17:29] -** _Sounds of screaming and growling. T1Lead’s com goes dead._
> 
> **[17:30] Command:** What is your status, Team one?
> 
> **[17:30] Command:** Team One, do you copy?
> 
> **[17:31] Command:** Team Two, Command. Abort mission and fall back to rendezvous point alpha for immediate evac.
> 
> **[17:31] T2Lead:** Roger, Command. Heading for the rendezvous.

 

**Addendum 2946-02:** Following incident [DATA EXPUNGED] and the loss of 5 personnel, SCP-2946 is not to be removed from its current location or to be contained within any Foundation facility until it is certain we will be able to neutralize the object’s effects. Even a few hours exposure to SCP-2946’s effects could seriously compromise site staff and other organic sentient SCPs. Security personnel shifts have been reduced to 6 hours as a precaution. Bi-weekly physicals and psychiatric evaluations are required.

**Addendum 2946-03:** Document 2946-B

 

> ☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐ ¡CORRUPTED! ¡CORRUPTED! ¡CORRUPTED! ¡CORRUPTED! ☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐☐
> 
> ☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐
> 
> ☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒
> 
> ☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉〿☐☐☐☒☒☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐☐☐☒▦⚉☐☒☐☐☐⚉⚉
> 
> 〿☐☐☐☒☒

  
**Contingency 0922-X** [REDACTED]


End file.
